Rebirth

[Wizzar 613]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzFdKMyIzMo

 

Birth

 

      With a heavy sigh, the Mali’Fenn rose from his seat. The stench of stale ale and body odor followed him as he stumbled toward the door, opening it to the persistent winter of Fin’hesin. A cool breeze pressed against him as he ventured into the frozen woodlands outside of Fenn. Pulling out a flask, he took a sizable swig of Ikurn’Vallei, a drink best described as paint thinner. Wiping his mouth with his garbs, he proceeded into the thick snow with heavy breaths, wishing he were back at the tavern, a drink in each of his hands. It was then that he spotted it, a small, white long body of fur, half-hidden in a cloudy blanket. Quickly, he scurried over to the animal, wrapping it in his sleeve-covered arms. For a moment, his thirst for ale eluded him as a smile crept on to his face. Perhaps, there is more to life than he realized.

 

 

Peace

 

With his usual facade, he approached the gates of Haelun'or with a warm smile. The gatekeeper was too slow in warning him to hide his identity. As two Mali’aheral quarreled, he withdrew his flask, almost finishing it before he was directed deeper into the city with the nation’s military leader. Bending the truth, the Mali’Fenn managed to get the answers he seeked, learning of the harsh and intolerant culture of this nation’s people. The flask was the first thing he reached for upon exiting the city, finishing its contents rapidly before beginning his journey home, one that proved difficult without his usual drinks.

 

War

 

His head throbbed as his eyes met the morning light. Moving a finger to his face, he instinctively looked to bite down on a fingernail already chewed away. He left his belongings and began his trek into the wilderness once more. Sober for two days, the withdrawal wasted no time in claiming him. Thoughts of the tavern, his second home, guided him deeper into the unknown terrain of Fin’hesin. If he just finished the task, he could go to his comfort, the substance that kept him content and complacent. These thoughts distracted him as he found a branch and began carving a sharp end into it. Satisfied, he continued further until the beast leaped out at him. The encounter was short, leaving a bloody gash on his shoulder, but the snow leopard was lifeless. A sort of euphoria swept over the Mali’Fenn as he took a trophy from the animal. He couldn’t help but smile as he cheerfully hiked back to the city.

 

 

Death

 

Tipsy, he had no idea where he was being led. Only that it was an end to the tasks that kept him away from his state of felicity. Hesitantly, he slowly immersed his body into the arctic waters. As the frigid waters took him, thoughts of ale, wine, and liquor distracted him, until everything turned black. This blackness slowly faded into dream-like images of an eternal winter, the Fin’ciwn. Ecstasy and bliss flooded into the Mali’Fenn before a name called out to him. Unable to speak or move, he laid there, fragments of his experience now permanently etched into his being. He drank to that.

 

 

 

Rebirth

 

Invigorated with a new purpose, his dipsomania was the one part of himself that he could not let go. The first few weeks were the toughest, he had rid himself of most of his supplies and tried to remain in bed, away from people. A perpetual nausea, sweating, and irritability plagued his day to day. In what felt like a lifetime, the days tormented him, the only thing keeping him afloat was his purpose and dedication to Wyrvun. As days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, he gradually felt better, in fact, by the third month, he felt reborn.

 

 

When old wither, and seek new worth,

Or wander ‘round to find fresh berth,

Like greyed phoenix, and all on earth,

I start anew, in my rebirth.